Oblivion's End
by lonelyguyfarhan
Summary: Tamriel is a continent of diverse races and factions each with their own beliefs and goals. Unravel through the eyes of different characters, their stories, and learn that the meaning of right and wrong are vague and that all things are not black or white, but grey. Rated M for violence, gore and other adult themes.


**Part 1: The Madmen of The Reach**

 **Chapter 1: Rage**

He felt cold... He was crouched down... His hands scuffling around to understand his surroundings... It was wet, not with water. It was too viscous to be water. His hand fell upon something similar to that of a head, but it was small. Very small. His eyes opened and absorbed the colors around him. The sky was reddish. Crimson to be exact. The viscid fluid beneath was dark red as well... Blood? And the head... It appeared to be that of a baby but was deformed... Unborn? Up ahead was a woman clad in a dark gown kneeling with her back to him. Her motions indicated that she was sobbing. He approached. As he did so, the rotting blood beneath his feet began to loose its viscosity and commenced to flow carrying several more of those deformed THINGS, along with it. When he was a mere arms length from the woman, the flow ceased, leaving the unborn infants around them. Upon approaching the sobbing woman he realized that she was carrying one of THEM in her arms... After a pause he leaned in to have a better look at her face when she whispered... "GENOCIDE"

Rhaard awoke as a mouse bit upon his nose. Stunned by the sudden pain he howled and swatted the rodent away before clutching his face. "A dream" he thought. It was the same one again. He felt a slight chill. Was it from the recollection of his dream or the natural chilly climate off Skyrim, he did not know. Probably the cold he assumed. Although he was in one of the warmer holds of Skyrim know as the Reach, the denizens of the Warrens often had little clothes for the purpose of warmth. And as they were in the mines itself, the scenario was further aggravated as the cold seeped through the earth beneath him. As he was lowering his hands his palms brushed against his beard. Rhaard picked up the little piece of tin that he passed for a mirror. He noticed that his dark curls needed to be bound and his equally dark beard was rather unkempt. He made a mental note to tidy up after the days work. The long hours he had been putting into the mines of late had taken its toll as dark lines had formed under his eyes. His light coffee complexion complimented his innocuous persona. He would have been handsome had it not been for the clear exhaustion on his face and shabby garbs.

Being a Breton in the city of stone meant that his social stigma was terribly low. As a result when he had found himself at the gates of Markarth as a child eleven years ago he only had two options for survival, to beg or to mine. And mine he did. At first, the other miners were doubtful of letting a kid work for them but soon changed their minds when he showcased his unparallel skill at digging up ore. And that had been his story since then. He would mine and the Silver-bloods would give him a roof over his head. Albeit that roof meant the Warrens. That morning when he was making his way towards the mines accross the stream of water caused by the waterfall high up into the mouth upon which Markarth stood, he noticed an argument of some sorts between Mulush, the orc responsible for overseeing of the Markarth smelter, and a scar faced nord wearing leather-scaled armour.

"Enough of your stupid demands Skaggi, our shipments of silver are low this month in itself with the Forsworn continuously attacking the caravans and you just can't expect me to let you lure away my workers!" growled Mulush. "But most of damn workers have gone off to fight in the stupid war the Jarl started!" Skaggi shouted back. "Talk like that and I'll tell my sister to put you in Cidna Mine" replied Mulush relatively calmly. "Do what you might but we both know that if Igmund had just waited and gone to the Empire instead of that Ulfric the Markarth incident never would have happened!"

Rhaard's presence caught their attention and the Nord turned to him and continued, "You there! You a miner?!" Rhaard noded a little startled. "I'd pay you double and a better place to sleep than that skeever's arse of a place you call the Warrens if you work for me in Left Hand Mine!" finished Skaggi. Rhaard liked the idea. For one, he had grown of waking up to the bite of rats. Heck, he wouldn't even be surprised if found a skeever cuddled up next to him if it hadn't bitten his face off. Or worse, a chaurous.. Grr, he shuddered at the thought snapped up the offer straight away before Mulush could deny him the pleasure. "Go if you wanna but if you even think of telling this to any of your mates, I'll gut you like a slaughterfish myself!" barked Mulush. "Hope your happy Skaggi that one can dig up enough ore than three of your milk drinkers combined, but I better not have you spooning around here for any more you hear me!" The Nord with a satisfied grin turned to Rhaard, "Pack up your things and meet me at Left hand at noon" The miner was beaming. He didn't own anything besides the clothes on his back and the iron dagger concealed in his ragged tunic, "I have nothing of value worth packing. I can head to work now if you require... Sir" he said while following Skaggi down the road beside the stream. He added the "sir" end hoping to get on good terms with his new employer. "Great! Your good with the pickaxe and loyal, unless that bloody orc got the better of me and gave me a milk drinker! Listen boy, keep the 'sir' to yourself cuz you ain't worth noting to unless you can dig me up some ore." returned the Nord. "Yes sir... Er... Um... " stuttered Rhaard. "Skaggi's fine by me boy, here have this" Skaggi tossed him a small coin purse, "Consider that an advance and get something to eat. Noon would be fine but don't be late" said Skaggi as they turned and crossed the small bridge over the stream and headed for the main gate. He parted ways with his generous employer as he made his way towards the market place.

Markarth's market place was not the largest that you would find in Skyrim, but had enough for the city's denizens to get by. The few dozen stalls sold just about anything and the area remained busy throughout the day, being the center of trade in the hold, although trade has subsided somewhat due to the increased Forsworn attack on caravans. A bit further past the wooden stalls was Arneif and Sons trading company and towards the left across a larger bridge over the stream was the Silver-Blood In where travelling traders or farmers can stay the night after selling their produce in the market. Despite being a natural introvert, staying in the city for fifteen years had made Rhaard some friends. None so than Laila Silk-Skin. She had first met Rhaard as a child. Taking pity on him, she agreed to feed him twice a day provided a small fee. Her mother, Lisana Silk-Skin was the owner of a renown clothes shop in Markarth, so the burden of an extra mouth posed no hindrance. As Rhaard approached the market place he saw Laila in front of a jewellery shop conversing with its vendor, a Redguard woman.

"I tell you Kerah, my little brother will be the death of me. This morning he morning he went out again on one of his ridiculous adventures again. Says he's found something about a conspiracy but I say he just has his head in the clouds" complained Laila to the shopkeeper. "Now, now Laila don't go on worrying yourself sick. I'm sure he's smart enough to not wander to far off." reassured Kerah. "But even so, these are bad times with the war and all. Can't he see how much he makes me worry" her eyes starting to water up. "Is Bran giving you trouble again?" Rhaard interrupted showing signs of concern. "Nothing, just a sister worrying about her twerp of a brother," she replied rubbing her eyes. "Now, shouldn't you be at work?" she asked with a soft playful punch on his shoulder. "Um... Uh... I got another job... At Left Hand," stuttered Rhaard awkwardly. It was no secret that Rhaard had had a crush on Laila since he first met her. Hence, despite knowing her for most of his life he still had butterflies in his stomach while talking to her. Laila sometimes teased him like this, but knowing his sensitivity towards her tried to be as nice as possible towards him. She smiled as she remembered how he didn't talk to anyone for a week after she chided him for breaking a plate. "That's great to hear, I recon you want something to eat," said she maintaining her smile. She waved goodbye to Kerah and started towards her home. Her smile made him feel more comfortable. She really was the most beautiful woman he'd ever seen. At least to him. Her emerald green eyes resonated a maternal Ko compassion and her auburn, shoulder-length hair coupled with her buxom frame created a persona he thought to be divine. In fact, just seeing her was the only thing he looked forward to. Albeit his feelings for her he never dared crossed the line he was so graciously allowed to be upon. This was Markarth, and he was a Breton.

As they were leaving, a Nord named Margret approached Kerah's stall asking for a ring. Behind her, Rhaard noticed, was Weylin, one of the miners from the warrens. This was particularly odd as he should have been in the mines working and it was unlike Mulush to give anyone any breaks. All of his suspicions were put to bed when Weylin drew an iron dagger and grabbed Margret's mouth to stab her from behind.

Recognizing that he could not reach there in time he grabbed a tomato from an adjacent stall and threw it towards the assailants face. Accuracy was never his strong suit and the tomato ended up hitting Margret's face instead of the attackers. This however, was enough to distract Weylin and delay him from making the kill allowing Rhaard to tackle and successfully take him down. While on the ground Weylin quickly regained his composure and buried the dagger into Rhaard's shoulder causing him to howl in pain and allowing the Weylin to kick him off of him. The assailant then shot an ice spike through his thigh and turned his attention to his initial target as he charged a fire ball in his right hand. Laila hid Margret behind her and cast a lesser ward to brace for the impending attack. The destruction spell being too strong broke the ward and knocked them both of their feet. Rhaard looked on haplessly as Weylin slowly approached the two women charging the fire that would end proceedings.

The pain from the dagger and ice spike would have thwarted him on any other occasion, but he would not lie down while the woman he loved was in danger. Mustering up all the strength he could to stand, he felt a familiar feeling pulsate through his body. His mind screamed with rage and he could feel the bleeding from his wounds stop. He pulled the dagger out of his shoulder and with an animalistic grunt charged towards the assailant. Hearing the enraged Breton, Weylin fired two ice spikes in hopes of slowing him down. To his shock, the berserker caught them in his palms and shattered them by tightening his grip. With his attackers almost upon him Weylin shot another ice spike, this time through his abdomen, but to no avail as Rhaard's fist thundered upon his nose, creating a sickening crunch, sending him crashing through a stall. With Weylin on the ground, Rhaard pulled out the ice spike from his abdomen and stabbed him through the heart. As his blood flowed from his mortal wound and gurgled from his mouth, the miner with his last breath, said grinning, "I die for my people"

As the deceased's body was convulsing, the haze of rage left Rhaard and he was left in the agony of his wounds. "Oh you saved my life! Please have this ring, I bought it for my sister but you deserve it. It's the least I can do," thanked the grateful Nord woman. "Fuck your bloody ring! Can't you see a man's injured? How's a bloody ring supposed to help?!" exclaimed Rhaard. "I'll heal you, calm down or the bleeding will get worse," interjected Laila. "Thank the nine!" exhaled Rhaard. "Be careful saying that in Markarth. The Thalmor might lock you up for heresy." chided Laila as she ran her fingers over his wounds, closing them with only a touch. "Um... It was more of an expression..." he stumbled. Having the woman of his dreams, this close to her made his heart. "So don't you worship the divines?" she enquired. "I do, but only Lady Mara," he replied. "That's great," said Laila with a smile that made his heart melt.

"Murder!" exclaimed a guard, "Were you behind this miner?" "No, not him. He's the one that saved us from the lunatic over there," defended Margret. After the initial fight caused the market crowd to disperse, they started to form around the scene. "Oh no, the Forsworn are attacking the city!" exclaimed Kerah. "No, no, nothing to see here move along," the guards said in their attempt to disperse the crowd again. "I've healed up the wounds, but you lost a good amount of blood. Come to my place, I'll cook you some stew and you can rest up a bit," said Laila while helping Rhaard up. On their way through the crowd, Rhaard bumped into a friend from The Warrens, Eltyr. "Rhaard, oh sorry, you must have dropped this," said Eltrys and handed him a note. Confused, Rhaard opened the note and it said, "Meet me at the Temple of Talos tomorrow."

 **This fan fiction is important for me as while I was writing the first paragraph, my grandmother died...**


End file.
